


Life Is But A Dream

by ExhaustedSunflower



Category: Six - Marlow/Moss
Genre: Dissociation, dissociative disorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:34:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27753145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExhaustedSunflower/pseuds/ExhaustedSunflower
Summary: Dissociative disorders are mental disorders that involve experiencing a disconnection and lack of continuity between thoughts, memories, surroundings, actions and identity. People with dissociative disorders escape reality in ways that are involuntary and unhealthy and cause problems with functioning in everyday life.-Or, in which I project my involuntary coping mechanism onto Jane. Who I honestly think with all the shit she saw probably stressed her brain to the point that this is realistic.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 32





	Life Is But A Dream

**Author's Note:**

> All sources at the end are pulled from a website called Mayo.org. I do have to say that I agree with all of it.

Something is wrong with Jane. 

She can feel it. She’d say she can feel it to her bones, but really it's feather light. Not overbearing per say, just barely there but ever present. She knows,  _ knows, _ that if she scratches at it too hard she’ll hurt herself.

But Jane will never stop trying to scrub this impossible feeling away.

It leaves her wrong footed on more than one occasion. What’s worse is that everyone else seems to know there’s something wrong too. For Jane it’s a chase though. She needs to figure it out, before the feather light touch sinks it’s claws in. (Before she tries to claw it away.)

She’s taken to rubbing her arms.

It’s a way to slightly control her feelings, the tactile motions that she herself controls is good for her. Grounding her, keeping her present. When she doesn’t quite understand what's happening around her, or to her, she rubs her forearm.

_ Her name is being called somewhere beside her. It’s muffled, almost under water in a way. And although she can vaguely understand that she’s being addressed, she can’t acknowledge the call. She can’t even move her head in that direction, can’t even open her mouth.  _

_ It’s getting louder, maybe. She can’t quite tell, but she thinks they’re upset she’s ignoring them. If only they knew what this was like for her, to not have the ability to respond. To even know who is calling her. _

_ And then she finally feels something, (When did she stop feeling?) a hand on her arm. _

_ “Jane!” _

_ She snaps slightly out of it, although her eyes are still glazed over. But she’s looking at the person now, so, progress. Her brain starts to drift again, so Jane rubs the spot that Anne had grabbed at for her attention. It helps just a bit. _

_ “Where is the bag with the cereal?” _

_ It takes her a minute to process the words, and another minute to find the energy to make her head nod in the direction she wants to point them in. It takes more energy to walk up the stairs and lay in bed, leaving the rest to put away the groceries themselves. _

_ (She stays in bed for the rest of the day.) _

_ (To her, barely any time has passed at all.) _

She’s been calling it ‘Zoning Out’, which she knows isn’t quite accurate. But it’s something to call it that doesn’t make her panic, and that’s fine. The others seem alright with it. She’ll zone out, and they’ll just try to keep her safe. There are rules for when Jane can’t seem to process the world around her.

_ Rule One: No operating the oven. This is a fire hazard. _

_ Rule Two: No driving. If you happen to be in the car with Jane and she is driving, help her safely park and then switch places with her. _

_ Rule Three: Let her sleep it off. Jane might stay in bed for days, just make sure she eats and has water. _

_ Rule Four: In the case you are in public with Jane when she zones out, safely guide her home. Speak for her if she is spoken to, and keep an eye on her at all times. _

_ Rule Five: If she starts scratching at her arm, give her something to hold. _

_ Jane should be grateful that the others care enough about her to help even though she’s a hazard. But really, she’s just sad and embarrassed that they even have to deal with this. _

_ (She is also very, very afraid.) _

Once, when she was ‘Zoned Out’, she’d gone from rubbing her arm to scratching violently. That had been a particularly bad day. She didn’t want to leave that day. But even then, this sickness does what it wants.

She remembers someone giving her an ice cube. It had shocked her enough that she woke up, that’s for sure. Now, it doesn’t work every time, but it helps when they run out of ways to help.

Maybe she should go to a doctor. But then again, she’d never been too fond of doctors. Maybe that’s why this is happening. Jane skipped a few too many doctors appointments, and now she’s dying again. (She should leave, best not to infect the others with this.)

_ When the other queens find out this thinking, during a particularly bad aftermath of a nightmare where she just barely avoids zoning out for good, they empathetically disagree. The argument goes all night. _

_ By the morning, she has a doctor's appointment with their ‘family doctor’. (Or, the only woman crazy enough to examine the six long dead queens of England reincarnated.) (Jane quite likes this doctor, although her aversion to doctors overpowers this whenever she needs to see her.) _

_ She’d referred Jane to a psychiatrist. Jane went home saying she’s just fine. _

Sometimes, it happens out of nowhere. This meaning usually she can feel it coming, thoughts slowing, missing bits of the conversation, delayed reactions, ‘I’m good, just tired all of a sudden’. Now that it’s (horrifyingly) established as something that happens to Jane often, the others can catch it quickly and help the best they can. 

But sometimes they aren’t so lucky and something in Jane’s brain switches. Like a light switch turning off. It sucks, but it happens that way and there’s nothing that Jane can do about it. 

_ After a few bad episodes where there was no warning, she’d been confronted about getting a second opinion. Jane had threatened to leave if they didn’t stop. _

It gets to a point where no one will leave her alone in public. All of her outings are supervised because they don’t know that she’ll come home otherwise. Jane catches onto this and her outings slowly decrease until she stops going out at all.

They want to help, she knows they want to help. It feels a bit like she’s watching it all happen from the outside perspective. She knows that whenever they walk into a room and find her staring blankly at a wall they are more and more afraid. They try to broach the subject in all kinds of ways. Interventions, private talks, bribery, ultimatums. None of it works.

At least, not until they find out about the referral.

_ It was a group visit to their doctor, physicals and vaccines, standard stuff. She can’t avoid these kinds of visits by going to a cafe for a few hours, they’d all know if she did. _

_ “Jane, you never followed up with the psychiatrist. Any reason why? Have your symptoms stopped at all?” _

_ She’d said it within earshot of Kitty, who is as nosy as she is outspoken. So of course as soon as that conversation took place the rest of the queens found out. Damn. _

_ They stop in a cafe afterwards, ironically it’s the one that Jane goes to when she’s avoiding the doctor. _

_ “Why didn’t you call? Doctor Morales said to!” _

_ “I feel fine, Lina. Let it be.” _

_ “You feel fine now! What about when you’re unresponsive for days? Weeks on and off? It’s only getting worse! How do you think it feels watching you become a shell of a person seemingly out of nowhere? How do you think we feel when you suddenly come back, claiming you’re okay? None of that is okay!” _

_ “I-“ _

_ The whole cafe is staring at them. Jane’s a bit embarrassed. Not only that, but she’s struggling to keep up. Is she really gone for weeks sometimes? She hardly feels time passing at all. She hasn’t had a great concept of time since she woke up in this century. Sometimes she’ll go through a whole week and at the end of she could not recall a single thing she’d done. _

_ “It’s terrifying, Jane. You are not okay and it isn’t fair to us to pretend you are.” _

_ She slumps in her seat while Anna sends glares to the rest of the patrons in the cafe, making them look away. _

_ “I know, Lina. I know. Sorry.” Her voice cracks half way through the sentence. It’s hard to admit that she knows she’s not okay. It’s as if she’s admitting it to herself for the first time, too. _

She spends the weeks leading up to the psychiatrists appointment an absolute wreck. All of her nervous habits come out ten fold. Jane can’t help the habit, she’s always nervous, always stressed. She can often be found picking at her nails and staring at the date placed on the fridge. It feels as if it’s mocking her, so she glares as hard as she can.

The scratching at her arm comes out while she’s aware for once, a habit that she can’t seem to kick. It’s just nice that there’s something she can feel. Although the other’s don’t get the sentiment, they scold her when they see the angry red lines on her arms.

_ “Try the ice cube thing again.” _

_ “It’s not as effective.” _

_ “Then try something else! Stop hurting yourself.” _

When the day of her appointment finally does roll around, Jane does all she can to stay present. The last thing she wants is to be out of it while speaking to the doctor.

Cathy drives, a unanimous decision that it is for the best. They didn’t want Jane skipping out on her appointment, and they also did not want her to zone out while behind the wheel. (Jane hardly drives anymore.)

The doctor's trip is very enlightening, although Jane doesn’t all about it for weeks. She keeps going back though, determined to fix herself.

(Her psychiatrist does not enjoy her endeavor to ‘fix herself’. She prefers the term helping, claiming Jane is not broken.) (Jane feels very broken though.)

She learns ways to actually help though, so she supposes the psychiatrist has a point. There’s a song for example, that she sings whenever she’s feeling like she’s about to check out.

_ “You are my sunshine.” _

_ She feels the gaze of Anne as she mixes the dough. It’s the first time Jane has baked on her own in a while. _

_ “My only sunshine.” _

_ It’s really just a precaution, she’ll probably be fine. But just to be sure. _

_ “Mm hm hm hm hmmm, hm hm hmm hmm.” _

_ Focus on each syllable. These doughnuts are going to be incredible. _

_ “You’ll never know dear, hm mm hm hm hm.” _

_ She’s so happy to be doing things again. Anne moves back to the living room, the wary gaze going with her. _

_ “Please don’t take my sunshine away.” _

And then there’s the absolute magic of getting a good night's sleep. Unbelievable how having an awake brain can help her fight off an episode. Just having the energy to be aware makes all the difference in the world. She sets a sleep schedule and follows it well.

_ “Jane, you wanna watch a movie with us?” _

_ She glances at the clock. Just after ten, she should head to bed. _

_ “Actually, I’m quite tired. We can definitely watch one tomorrow though.” _

_ And they can, Jane knows this. Because Jane is going to be aware enough to do so, and it won’t even feel like a dream.  _

_ (She is so, so proud of herself.) _

There’s a technique that she uses quite often, using her senses to ground herself. It’s what she’s been doing with scratching at her arm, but she’s learned less painful ways to do it.

_ Sometimes she has to take off her shoes and feel the carpet beneath her in order to focus on a conversation. It’s not unusual for her to do it without notice, the queens get used to it pretty quickly. _

_ She’s also taken to keeping a lot of strongly scented candles around the house. She lights one whenever she feels her brain start to waver, it usually keeps her on track. _

The latest thing she’s been doing is keeping a journal. It helps her keep track of her days, as well as remember what she’s done and where she’s been. Eventually, she starts leaving the house again. Eventually, the other queens allow her to do so on her own.

-

**_Dissociative disorders_ ** _ are mental disorders that involve experiencing a disconnection and lack of continuity between thoughts, memories, surroundings, actions and identity. People with dissociative disorders escape reality in ways that are involuntary and unhealthy and cause problems with functioning in everyday life. _

**_Symptoms_ **

**_Signs and symptoms depend on the type of dissociative disorders you have, but may include:_ **

_ -Memory loss (amnesia) of certain time periods, events, people and personal information _

_ -A sense of being detached from yourself and your emotions _

_ -A perception of the people and things around you as distorted and unreal _

_ -A blurred sense of identity _

_ -Significant stress or problems in your relationships, work or other important areas of your life _

_ -Inability to cope well with emotional or professional stress _

_ -Mental health problems, such as depression, anxiety, and suicidal thoughts and behaviors _

**Author's Note:**

> The way that Dissociation was described to me the first time I heard of it, before I ever got diagnosed, is that it’s a coping mechanism. Your brain has been hurt, and so at any sign of distress, it shuts itself away. It’s a form of protecting itself, protecting you. It does suck to not feel things, though. The no emotions thing is no fun, because it comes back to bite when you finally can feel, and it’s been building up. 
> 
> All of that to say, this is a dangerous thing to deal with on your own. It’s scary, especially if you have no idea why you’re just zoning out all of the time. If any of this resonates with you, you should definitely bring it up with a therapist. Although please be aware that some doctors are discriminatory and don’t believe this is a real thing. If this occurs, find a second opinion.


End file.
